


Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: The Attempt

by DirtyScrolls



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, Blackmail, Blood, Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Dunmer (Elder Scrolls), Face Slapping, Fantastic Racism, Forced Orgasm, Knifeplay, M/M, Morag Tong, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Touching, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape, Rape With Object, Rimming, Thieves Guild, Threats, improper use of the Ebony Blade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27058171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyScrolls/pseuds/DirtyScrolls
Summary: The Dragonborn gets a surprise.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ravyn Imyan
Comments: 23
Kudos: 37
Collections: Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: The Dragonborn and Ravyn Imyan





	Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: The Attempt

**Author's Note:**

> Previous Ravyn Imyan stories can be found in this collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Ravyn_Imyan

Kordin awoke in the pitch black of his bedroom to a slight weight on the edge of his bed and cool metal at his throat. The drapes were shut, so it was too dark to make out the intruder’s features, but he could hear very soft breathing. Something about the man’s—it smelled more like a male body—scent was not unfamiliar, but in his grogginess he could not place it.

His impulse was to sigh with annoyance. This wasn’t the first time a hired blade had crept up on him in the dark, and it would certainly not be the last.

Mustering his concentration, he Shouted as powerfully as he could in his half-awake state. The weight flew off the bed, and there was a heavy thump as the failed assassin landed against the wardrobe. Kordin unsheathed the paralysis-poisoned ebony dagger he habitually kept strapped to his waist when he slept alone, for just such eventualities as this. 

He could see slightly better now, could make out a dark, hooded figure, trying to get up on his elbows. Kordin swiftly stuck the figure in the thigh—the nearest place he could reach—puncturing what felt like leather armor and tough muscle. The assailant went limp.

There was a banging on his door. His housecarl.

“My Thane? I heard a crash.”

“Everything’s fine,” he called. 

“Very well.”

Her footsteps retreated.

Kordin got up, lit a candle, and went to examine his attacker. Every so often, he’d caught one worth playing with, so he wanted to see what he had on his hands before calling the guards. 

The mild yellow light revealed a long, handsome ashen-skinned face with sharp Elven cheekbones, a strong nose, a pair of generous, slightly parted lips. The beautifully slanted red eyes were glassy and half-closed. He knew now why the man had smelled so familiar.

Ravyn Imyan’s wiry unmoving body was, of course, a very tempting sight, and his smell was almost as tempting, and Kordin would have loved to have some fun with him in this helpless state, but the poison was not as long-lasting as some of his previous creations. He had only a few minutes to strip the Dunmer and bind his wrists to the bedposts, using the magicka-draining shackles he had collected on his mission to “rescue” the pretty mage Drevis Neloren. Still, the process of handling, baring, and binding his lovely grey body was as enjoyable as ever, and by the time he was done he had a healthy erection.

When Imyan opened his blurry red eyes and blinked in confusion, the elf was securely chained and the Listener sat patiently beside him, stroking the muscles of his torso and arm with one hand, like a man admiring a finely-crafted weapon—which, in a way, he was. He’d lit candles around the room, giving the place a strangely appropriate air of romance.

In the other hand, Kordin held his actual weapon.

“Nice try, dear,” Kordin said when he saw the mer’s eyes open, running his blade-edge down his smooth grey cheek. “You got in past the locks, past the housecarl—and she’s a light sleeper—and you were very brave. I applaud your efforts, sincerely. Attacking the Dark Brotherhood’s Listener in his bed. The Morag Tong would’ve been so proud.” 

He traced the tip of the dagger up and down the ridges of the mer’s smooth grey abdomen. Imyan’s handsome face looked fully alert now, and he winced a bit at the cold of the blade. 

“You almost had me.” Kordin smiled, pinning the dark blood-colored eyes with his own. “My luscious little killer.” 

He kissed the mer’s lips softly, lovingly. The thought of the ex-assassin’s dark agile form easing into his house to settle next to him during the night—to put a knife to his very skin while he slept—turned him on almost as much as the man’s current utter vulnerability. 

“But, as we both know, almost is never good enough, in these matters. Maybe you’re a bit out of practice, gorgeous, hmm? Or maybe you forgot I’m no ordinary target? As I said, you were brave. So very brave. But also so very, very stupid.”

The Nord backhanded him where he’d kissed him, splitting his lip, bringing a sweet trickle of blood, which Kordin suckled during another gentle kiss.

“Kill me, then,” Imyan said, his voice steady, his volcanic eyes meeting Kordin’s. “I know I’m not getting out of here. Cut my throat.” 

“I could do that,” Kordin said, touching the soft bloody lips, then licking the red fluid from his fingers. “I could also bring you alive to the Sanctuary and play with you first. I could leave you tied here, go down to the Cistern, and tell them we have a murdering traitor in our midst. Tell them you were jealous, wanted Brynjolf to yourself. Do you think the ginger’ll want anything to do with you after that?” 

Imyan looked alarmed at this. Kordin moved to running his finger through the mer’s slicked locks, pulling, twisting. 

“Or I could just call the guards. I know a few guys in the barracks who would very much appreciate hosting a handsome troublemaker.”

Imyan closed his eyes. He looked deeply tired.

“Please just—just kill me,” he said, in the same steady, quiet voice. “Do whatever you like to me after. I only ask that, if you have any decency left, you leave me somewhere I’ll be found, so they won’t think I’ve deserted. I just want this to--”

“Concerned about your reputation, are you?”

The Dunmer thief sighed.

“Yes, damn you, I care about my Guildmates. About my honor. Unlike some I could name.” 

This remark earned him another crack across the face. More blood oozed from his pretty lips.

“I made the Guild what it is. You wouldn’t have bothered gracing us with your charming presence, if not for my efforts.”

Imyan said nothing, his bleeding mouth set.

“You look so fucking beautiful in chains,” the Nord told him, cupping the grey-skin’s impassive face, tracing one of his eyes. “And so calm in the face of death.” He chuckled. “This talk of cutting your throat is all very… exciting.”

“So quit talking and act, then. I’m sick of this. Sick of having to--to do what you want.” 

“Well, that’s no one’s fault but your own, my gorgeous grey-skin. If you hadn’t decided to reminisce about your old affiliations to the leader of your enemies--of all people--you’d be doing fine. Making money, getting that sweet ass plowed by Brynjolf.”

With this remark, Kordin remembered the feel of the other Nord thief’s eager prick in his own ass during their recent meeting, hitting his sweet spot with each thrust, while Brynjolf praised his Guildmaster and called him “lad.” At the same time, Kordin’s lips had been wrapped around that hard, graceful cock of Imyan’s, working it to orgasm. 

Imyan bristled.

“I suppose I should have just guessed you were one of those lawless, honorless bastards, right? Why don’t you just--”

“No, no, I haven’t quite decided yet what to do with you, Imyan,” Kordin said softly, stroking his hair again, “At least, not ultimately.” He moved close to the bound mer, rubbing his erection into his firm naked thigh. “I just know what I’d desperately like to do with you right now.” 

“You’re going to rape me,” said Imyan drily, “Again.”

“I seem to recall you liking it.”

Imyan flushed an enchanting rosy-grey in the soft light, and said nothing for a moment. 

Then his voice was still quiet, very calm.

“You know very well I don’t want you.”

“Your pretty cock seemed to like my mouth just fine, the other day.” Kordin rubbed against him again. “Anyway, you know very well it hardly matters to me what you want.”

There was no more talk, for now. The Nord lifted one of Imyan’s sleek legs onto his shoulder, spat on his hand and used his wet fingers to prod the mer’s tight unwilling asshole. 

Imyam kneed him full-strength with his free leg. Sharp sudden pain in his thigh. He bit back a yell and swiftly slapped the bold mer.

“You can’t goad me, so don’t try. You are getting fucked, my fine Morag Tong slut, and you are going to be alive to feel every inch of it. Don’t resist--unless you want the riding crop on your perfect cock again.” 

He grinned at the momentarily stricken look on the other man’s face. 

“Didn’t think so.”

Kordin left Imyan on the bed and went to his dresser to retrieve some leather straps, the thick kind that could withstand Teldryn Sero’s strongest ecstatic writhings. He forcibly moved each of Imyan’s lithe legs back and tied each beautifully-formed ankle to each chained wrist.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, caressing the elf’s wantonly exposed genitals and crack. “Just as you should be.”

Imyan only gave him his hard jewel-red stare.

Kordin traced his crack, tickled his dark pucker.

“Mmmm, I think I know exactly what I’ll do with you. I think I’ll remind you just how much you like belonging to the Listener.” He palmed Imyan’s cock softly. “How many times have you come for me, handsome? Twice? Three times, counting that day with Brynjolf—you like my mouth. You seem to spill a lot of come for me, don’t you think?”

Kordin bent his head and poked his tongue into the indent of the Dunmer’s dark asshole, swirled it around. He pushed the man’s buttocks open as far as he could and leaned in to lick him from the top of his crack to his taint. Then he sucked each of his balls gently into his mouth, massaging them with his tongue. At the same time, he wrapped his fist around the hardening cock, pumped the grey tube of flesh gently.

He nipped at the soft sides of Imyan’s crack, kissed his own shallow bite-marks, then turned in earnest to lapping the mer’s hole into open relaxation, stimulating the soft flesh with quick sweeps of his tongue. 

Imyan’s prick was growing harder under the light strokes of his hand and the ceaseless strokes of tongue against hole. The Nord smiled into his prey’s warm crack and licked more forcefully still. Imyan wriggled and arched his cock into the Listener’s fist, trying to bite back a moan.

“You like having your ass eaten, don’t you? Don’t think I didn’t notice that, when Brynjolf did it. And I know you’ll like this.

He came up, breathed, then wrapped his lips around Imyan’s long graceful cock and swallowed the assassin all the way down. He sucked him intensely, squeezing with his lips as he moved up and down, teasing the tip each time with his tongue. Imyan’s grey, pink-flushed cock was fully hard, leaked faint salty issue.

Kordon took his mouth off, met the dazed red eyes, and smiled. Then he dipped down again and took Imyan’s erection in to the balls, rubbing his sack at the same time. Imyan gave a small deep grunt.

The Nord flicked a finger back and forth across the elf’s wet hole as he sucked him. Imyan moaned and pressed his ass into Kordin’s hand.

Kordin slid his mouth off the Dunmer’s prick, slowly, this time. Imyan moaned again.

“Yeah, you do love this. And you want my fingers in you.”

“I don’t,” rasped Imyan.

“You do,” insisted Kordin, inserting his first finger smoothly into that soft tight opening. “Besides, you feel so good. Gods, your little hole is so hot. And look at that thick hard prick.”

The elf flicked his eyes away and blushed.

“I said look at it. Look at how hard you are just from my mouth and one finger. Maybe you wanted to be caught and fucked. Maybe that’s why you came here.”

“I came here to put an end to this.”

“If that’s so, I find your—initiative—oh, so very arousing, dear.” Kordin put in a second finger, pushing firmly. Imyan made a strangled grunt, his pretty lips pursed. “Are you sure it didn’t cross your mind that you’d end up moaning on my fingers with your cock drooling all over?”

“I thought you’d kill me, if you--”

A third thick spit-covered finger up his ass interrupted the grey-skin, eliciting a choked sound of pain.

“I like you alive and making your noises. For now.” He grinned, looking into the mer’s face, which had a hard expression. “You worshiped Mephala, yes?”

“We killed in her name, to protect Morrowind from open civil war--”

“I think you’ll appreciate what’s coming.”

He pulled his fingers from the elf’s body with a muted wet pop, went to the trunk where he kept the Ebony Blade of the Whispering Lady.

“Do you know what I have here, dear?”

“An Artifact of Black Hands Mephala.”

Kordin set the long blade on the bed, approached Imyan, parted his ass-cheeks and teased his hole again with a finger. Imyan swallowed, and was silent. Imyan’s wide lovely eyes followed him as he got the oil, applied it to his pucker, stuck two fingers inside. 

“What are--what are you going to do?”

Kordin grinned at him. Then he coated the hilt of the Ebony Blade.

“You shouldn’t have that,” Imyan said, gritting his teeth.

“Your Mephala seemed to think I should.”

Kordin lined up the thick black hilt of the beautiful, gleaming two-handed sword with Imyan’s oil-shiny hole and pushed. It was thicker than the dagger-hilt he’d previously used on the mer, and longer too. Imyan groaned loudly with his teeth still gritted as the artifact entered him fully. His hole was stretched and dark pink around it. His cock was beginning to go soft.

“You look so good with it stuck inside you, my dear.” The Nord stroked the strained hole around the hilt, the sides of the soft cleft. He looked into Imyan’s glittering slanted eyes, his pained handsome face. 

“What a beauty you are,” he sighed, tracing the ring that hugged the hilt. “I’d love to keep you here, chained in the cellar, as my exquisite little slave. I wish I could paint you as you are right now, so open, so helpless.”

Imyan glared fiercely through his violated agony.

With no preamble, Kordin leaned down and took Imyan’s half-hard cock into his mouth. He used one hand to hold the Dunmer’s shaft and the other to gently move to hilt of the Whispering Lady’s blade back and forth in the elf’s ass. He brought to bear all his expertise at cock-sucking, using tongue and lips to draw unwilling moans from his victim, to get him fully hard, even as he probed him with his sacred artifact.

“You’re going to come for me like this,” he promised, looking up into the gorgeous grey creature’s half-miserable, half-pleasured face, working the hilt into his pretty hole, massaging his leaking erect prick. “Your delicious cream is going right down my throat. You know I can make it happen, grey-skin.”

Again he devoured Imyan’s salty dribbling prick, savoring the taste as he stimulated him. It was undeniably hard and eager for more of the same treatment, despite the pain of the hilt inserted between his round cheeks. When Kordin looked up, the elf’s eyes were shut in consternation.

Nonetheless, after several moments of relentless, hungry treatment from the Nord, the ex-assassin came—strong, salty, fast—in Kordin’s eager mouth.

“Ah, delicious,” the Listener said, pulled back and swallowing. “Told you you’d shoot that sweet seed for me.”

He eased Mephala’s Blade out of the stretched orifice and wiped it on Imyan’s nearby loincloth. Imyan watched him set it on the floor, his expression hard.

“And now I think you’re ready for my prick.”

The Dunmer said nothing, merely returned his tormentor’s stare, as the Listener approached and ran the tip of his cock up and down his crack.

“Shor’s bones, you feel so good.” He used the tip to tease the hole. “I love your silky little cleft. Not as much as that delicious hole, though.”

Imyan grimaced and clenched his teeth as Kordin thrust in with a sigh past his already-strained ring and into his hot rectum. As he entered his whore, he licked his palm and wrapped his hand around the man’s deflated prick and caressed it, running his fingers over the wet tip. The elf’s member was only partially deflated.

“Still a little hard for me, I see. That beautiful cock wants mine inside you, doesn’t it, love?”

Kordin slapped Imyan’s unmoving face with his other hand.

“Answer me, elf. You want it?”

“You know I don’t.”

Another highly-satisfying slap. The side of the mer’s smooth grey face was growing pink. His mouth pressed in pain.

“Tell me you want it, unless you want another smack.”

Silence. He got a firm, head-rocking blow across his other cheek for his trouble.

“I--” Imyan’s voice was quiet, gruff. His face burned visibly with his humiliation. “I--want it.”

“Good slut, I’m gonna give you what you want.”

He began fucking him with deep, sharp movements, getting his prick in balls-deep in the first few thrusts. Imyan emitted a growl of protest as his sensitive insides were brutally invaded, battered steadily by the Nord’s hefty, hard prick. Kordin’s hand worked on the grey shaft, base to tip and back again. The ex-assassin was tight and so hot inside, as if Imyan were trying to keep him out. Kordin pounded his open, helpless ass, playing with his prick, balls, and the dark erect nipples as he took him. Imyan’s parted, bound thighs trembled under the ceaseless violation of his body. His eyes were closed.

Kordin twisted one of his pretty nipples Imyan cried out keenly.

“Look at me, whore.”

Imyan looked at him, his beautiful ruby eyes slightly wild.

Kordin fucked him in a frenzy of pent-up anger and sharp desire, taking every inch of tight heated pleasure he could from the abused hole. He used the fissure in the elf’s crack without care for his obvious pain, at the same time kissing his elegant neck wetly, soothingly. Kissed him where he wanted to cut him. He smelled the scent of his pain-sweat, relished it. He was very close.

“Feel that inside you, filling you. You need and deserve this.”

He came inside him, too soon, as usual. As he pulled out, he watched his own pearly semen run from the elf’s dark hole onto the bedclothes.

“Was that good, love?” he asked, kissing his erstwhile attacker passionately on the lips. “Did you get what you came for?”


End file.
